A New Home
by daintywords
Summary: The rebellion is over. Coin is dead. District Twelve is in the process of being rebuilt. Effie has nowhere to go now that the Capitol disgusts her. And so Haymitch invites her to come live in District's Twelve's Victor's Village. She hesitantly accepts and finds solace in a place that once disgusted her with its smell. *Disclaimer, these characters are not mine, sadly.
1. Chapter 1

"Why so cold in here, princess?" Haymitch walks in and leans against the table. He crosses his arms and pretends to shiver.

Effie rolls her eyes and dabs her face with a warm washcloth. It's the closest thing to a powderpuff she has. "Don't ask me. Ask Coin. She's all about resource conservation, even if it digs into our comfort." Effie mumbles the last part under her breath, stressing the word "comfort."

Haymitch stares at her strangely. He bites his lips. "It's been ten days, Effie."

Effie stops dabbing her nose and stares up at Haymitch. "I know that, Haymitch. Coin's laws are most likely still enforced…even though she's gone."

It's been ten days since the end of the rebellion, since Coin died. The graves have been dug, and the dead have been lowered. Panem is beginning the slow, hard process of restoration. The trials of the officials in the Capitol are being held night and day; so many crooks to be convicted for the slaughter of countless children. Many people from District Thirteen have already up and left, Katniss and Peeta included. Effie hasn't budged. She doesn't have anywhere to go. Her home is an old battlefield that disgusts her with the monstrous secrets it held. She's lost in limbo, and her quarters that she once despised in District Thirteen have become her sole savior.

Haymitch sits himself down on the bed beside Effie. He moves for her hand, but she retracts it. "It's time for you to move on Effie. You can't stay down here forever. What's happened isn't going to disappear." His breath is already infused with alcohol, and it's only nine am.

"Where do you suggest I go?"

"Come to District Twelve. You can stay in one of the spare victor's houses."

Effie stands up and paces around her small room. "Oh I could hardly do that."

"Why not?" Haymitch smiles, revealing his yellow, cracked teeth. "You have nowhere else to go."

The soldiers from District Thirteen leave them at the front of the gated Victor's Village. The metal overhang is crusted with icicles. The soldiers salute Haymitch before taking off. Effie clutches her small bag to her chest. It's all she has left, but it isn't much, a few headscarves and another grey smock.

The Victor's Village is bare, except for a few fresh flowers surrounding one house—Peeta's house. "District Twelve is still a mess." Haymitch leads Effie into the village. The ground is dry. It hasn't snowed in a while. "But they've started to clean it up. Don't think it'll take long, not with the ambition the volunteers are showing."

Effie nods, staring at her golden boots that have two inches of heel, the only piece of adequate clothing she has left. Straggling weeds try to break through the cracked ground. Most wilt once they hit the cold air. She doesn't know what to say. The air stings her eyes, threatening to draw out tears. They walk by the house with the yellow flowers, and Haymitch motions to it. "That's Peeta's house. Katniss splits her time between her home with her mom and his. Haven't seen her in a while.

"I've got this house warmed up for you." Haymitch leads her to a house that's a few away from Peeta's. The stairs creak as they walk up them. Effie wonders if any animals find shelter below. Haymitch blows into his hands before turning the brass doorknob. A wall of warm, dusty air hits them.

"Of course this house hasn't been lived in, but it shouldn't take much to clean it up." He pulls a folded hanky from his pocket and hands it to Effie, for the dusting. "I've put food in the fridge for you, and there are some clothes in the closet." Haymitch walks in first and opens the shades in the living room. The house is christened with sunlight. "The thermostat is in the kitchen. You should open some windows to air the house out."

Effie walks in hesitantly, setting her bag down on the floor by the coffee table. She runs a finger along the table to find nearly a centimeter of collected dust. She'll need more than a handkerchief to clean this house.

"Have you heard from Flavius, Venia, or Octavia?" Effie's eyes focus on the clock. The pendulum swings back and forth. She wonders how long it's been in this pattern, how the batteries haven't died off and left it idle. She knows Cinna was killed along with Peeta's prep team. But she hasn't heard anything about Katniss's team. The three stylists were the closest things she had to friends back in the Capitol. Her other friends were jealous of her position as an escort. They said they weren't, but Effie didn't miss the sneers she received behind her back. And there was always an underlying tension with the other escorts. They treated each other with respect per say, but the competition of the games steamed a deep, hidden hatred. The three prep teams stylists were different; they weren't jealous, for they were too naïve to be aware of jealousy.

Haymitch rubs his hand over his greying stubble. "There's been no word. There's been no word on a lot of people," he mumbles under his breath. Haymitch lifts a window and the house turns crystal cold, sucking all of the heat out. He places his hands on his hips and bites his tongue, staring at the ceiling.

"Do you need anything else?"

Effie shakes her head.

Haymitch walks to the door and opens it to leave.

"Haymitch!" Effie stops him.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Thank you."

Haymitch smiles at her, which looks more like a grimace, and leaves her house, shutting the door behind himself.

Effie sits on the couch, pulls her legs up, and holds herself tightly.

Note: Thanks for reading if you made it this far! I have this story outlined out, and I plan to continue it until it's about 7k-12k words. I'd love a review telling me what you liked and didn't like and how long you prefer chapters to be. Thanks again! Another chapter should be soon.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Effie stares longingly at her closet. There are clothes like Haymitch said, and although they're not grey and dull like District Thirteen's, they aren't like what she is used to. She was hoping for at least one silky dress to feel nostalgic over her past with. Instead, she has blue jeans, button up plain white blouses and black t-shirts, and a pair of overalls. Overalls—how barbaric! After a few minutes of staring with pursed lips, Effie relents and trades her grey smock for a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.

Effie spends the afternoon cleaning her house. She has never done much housework in her past—servants took care of the mopping, dusting and the polishing of silver and her mahogany furniture fixtures. But she finds cleaning to be a numbing experience, so she doesn't mind it. Her mind goes blank when she's on her knees scrubbing the dirt from the cracks in the kitchen tile. Cleaning gives her an excuse not to think, an excuse that she'll gladly take. The few months have been mentally dreadful for Effie. The stories she heard, the scenes she saw, the conclusions she came to were too much and stole any chance for peaceful sleep. Effie was once a person who fell asleep with a smile on her face. Now she is lucky to even have a faint smile grace her lips.

Evening comes with the drop of the sun. Effie's house is cold, but she has sweat dripping down her temple. Her back aches and her arms burn. She feels physically exhausted. It's funny; mental exhaustion has a way of stealing your sleep, whereas physical exhaustion burdens you with the need for sleep. Effie gladly falls into this need. She grabs a blanket that smells stale and nestles on her couch. She hasn't eaten any lunch, or dinner. She's not hungry. She's never hungry.

She's safe beneath the blanket, safe from the outside world that has no boundaries when it comes to decency. She's safe from her thoughts, at least until her thoughts turn into dreams. No one is safe from their dreams.

_She's in a white, sterile room. Everything smells like bleach, not that this is a bad thing, for if it didn't smell like bleach it would smell like blood. She spent six days in this room in total, but she revisits it every night. _

_Flavius, Octavia, and Venia sit around a table. They're huddled together, whispering into each other's ears. They think their being here is a process of their promotion. Effie rolls her eyes at them. She knows they aren't being awarded. Something happened when the Quarter Quell's arena's screens went black. Effie knows something happened, and the uneasiness in her gut tells her it wasn't good. Haymitch left her side the second the reception cutoff. It hurt her; she thought they were a team. _

_A door opens. The four of them jump. A peacekeeper walks in. He wears his white uniform, except his helmet is off. A snarky grin is in its place. He looks around the room. His eyes fall on the prep team with mockery. "Get out," he says. "You're free to go." Flavius, Octavia, and Venia stare at each other, confused. Does this mean they don't get their promotion? But they leave. Effie gets up to leave, too, but the peacekeeper grabs her arm at the door. "Not you."_

Effie turns on the couch and falls to the ground. She's awake. She grabs her arm, expecting to see the hard grasp of the peacekeeper, but no one is there. This is her dream every night. Sometimes she's lucky enough to wake up on the first day of her stay in the white room, like tonight. But sometimes she's not, and she's forced to live those six days again, and again, and again.

The teapot whistles, and Effie pours herself a bland cup. She takes it to the back porch where the cold is, to keep her awake. She sits on the edge and stares off at the village's fence. A forest lies behind.

A lantern catches her eye. It's moving through the forest, climbing the fence, and landing on the other side gracefully like a cat. The lantern comes a little ways closer so that Effie can see who's behind it with the full moon's help. It's Katniss. She wears her father's leather jacket. It's unzipped. She looks at Effie, taking her in. Her face is pale, lips blue, expression blank. Effie lifts her hand to wave, and Katniss darts away, like a deer being hunted.

Effie stays outside. The cold doesn't bother her. Numbness beats temperatures. She watches the sunrise from behind the tall pine trees. It's orange. Orange, like Flavius's hair, Cinna's famous designs, District Thirteen's mockingjay propaganda. Orange like fire.

"Effie? Effie, you're here right?" It's Peeta's voice. Effie sets the cup of cold tea down on the porch and walks inside to greet him. She tries to smile, but her lips are cracked, threatening to spill blood.

Peeta looks good. His sunken face has filled out. His eyes still hold circles underneath, but they're a light grey rather than black. He's gained weight. And he looks almost content. It's too early to be happy, but content is a good state of mind to seek.

"Did Haymitch tell you I was here?"

Peeta takes her in. Effie can't tell if the look on his face is relief or disgust. She touches the grey headscarf that she forgot she was still wearing. "I'm the one that told him to go get you." He takes a step closer. "It's good to see you, Effie." Peeta puts the basket he had in his arms on the table and goes in for a hug. He smells like bread, and Effie holds on to the comfort he offers.

They sit, and Peeta spreads out the freshly baked bread he brought and the jam to go with. He tells her about his and Katniss's life in District Thirteen for the past week, how they're slowly fallings into a pattern of life.

"But how is she? Katniss?" Effie places her hand on top of his. She can't believe this is the same boy who was damaged so badly by the Capitol, who wanted to kill everybody. He's come a long way.

Peeta stares down at their hands. "She's…she's not so good. She's not herself." He looks up, and Effie sees fear in his eyes. "But we know she'll return. It's just going to take time. Everything takes time." He offers a weak smile. "Her mom and I are here for her, and now you are, too."

"I don't know how much help I'll be, Peeta. She probably hates me."

"I think she hates everyone right now, except for Haymitch."

"Really, how is Haymitch helping her?"

"He offers her his booze, helps her forget. I tell him this isn't the right way to recover, but I don't think anyone can stop a habit that's been going on for twenty-five years."

"He's drinking again," Effie whispers. She thought his breath smelled of alcohol when he picked her up, but a tiny part of her had such hope that he would stay sober. She should have known better; hope is overrated.

"Yes, but who needs alcohol when you've got my bread and jam?" Peeta offers her a piece of steaming bread with an overly large grin on his face. Effie sees the lie behind his smile, and in that moment seventeen year old Peeta looks as old as a seventy year old man. After watching Effie's reaction, Peeta's grin falls into an expressionless straight line. "Would you take the bread?"

Effie takes it, but she doesn't eat. She's not hungry.

"Haymitch told me what he got you for clothes, but he forgot the winter gear." Peeta pulls out a leather coat, a wool black sweater, and a pair of hefty boots. Effie takes the sweater and pulls it on. It's warm and a little itchy. It's perfect.

"Thank you, Peeta."

"Well, I should get back to Katniss." He stands up. "Come over if you need anything. Haymitch probably won't be much help, but Katniss's mom and I are here. I'd suggest unwinding some. Take advantage of the warm water we have. I can't be the only one who missed it in District Thirteen." Peeta offers her a genuine smile. It doesn't hold sadness, but it holds acceptance. He stands up and pulls Effie into another hug before leaving through the front door. The door's close makes the house radiate with hollowness.

Effie follows Peeta's suggestion and takes a shower. The water is burning hot, but by the time the droplets hit the ground, they're nearly beads of ice. It takes half an hour for Effie to lose her physical numbness and become warm. She took her headscarf off prior to getting in, and she runs her fingers through her shoulder length hair. Real hair was never accepted in the Capitol. You either had to dye it a strange color or wear extravagant wigs. Effie never could muster up the courage to damage her real hair, so she hid it. And she hid it. And eventually she grew to hate it. But now her real hair seems like a better option than her oily headscarf.

She gets out and changes into her clothes as fast as she can. She can't stand the vulnerability nakedness brings. She pulls over her black sweater and hugs herself. As a young child, her mother would always hug her really hard after she got out of the bath. The hugs stopped when she turned five and her mother became the escort for District Four, but they were nice while they lasted.

Effie finds a brush and runs it through her golden waves. She finds petroleum jelly and rubs it into her lips. The blood mixed with the jelly makes them shine pink. She looks in the mirror, and her blue eyes stare back at her. Hidden behind the color is hollowness that came when she broke from being in that sterile room for six days.

Effie peeks through her curtain and stairs at the house across the street. It's Haymitch's. All of the lights are out inside, even though it's one pm. Effie laces her boots and pulls on her heavy, leather coat. It makes her feel like a man, for she's used to having dainty trench coats.

It's cold outside, and she embraces the burn of air in her lungs. Not all burns are bad. She steps up onto Haymitch's porch and knocks three, stern times. She looks around the village while waiting for it to open. All of the houses look like corpses, even the ones that are lived in. She thinks of them as corpses because it's death's fault that they're not alive with human life. But then, death is President Snow's fault. Everything merciless can be traced back to President Snow.

Effie is clutching her shoulders in a vulnerable cross with her arms when the door stutters open. Haymitch drawls on the other end, a bottle of clear liquid in one hand. He leans against the frame with his lower lip sticking out. "Who are you?" He takes a long swig from his bottle.

"It's me, Haymitch." Effie touches one curl self-consciously.

"Effie?" Haymitch drops the bottle and it shatters on the porch. Effie jumps inside to avoid the liquid from soaking through her boots. "Is that really you, Effie?" Haymitch strokes her hair as if she is a show dog. "You're so soft," he mumbles.

"Oh, Haymitch, would you please get off of me?" Effie makes a move to push him away, but Haymitch hiccups and loses his footing, crashing into her further and grasping onto her shoulders. "Oh, Haymitch," Effie mutters again, bitterly. She pushes him off and he crashes to the ground. Out. Cold. She curses under her breath before pulling him further inside and shutting the door behind them.


End file.
